


flowers in the archive

by grossferatu



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Incest, Alternate Victory, Anal Sex, Blood and Gore, Brother/Brother Incest, Cannibalism, Cis Elias Bouchard, Cis Martin Blackwood, Double Penetration, Eye Trauma, Father/Son Incest, Fluff, Incest, M/M, Monster Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Non-Canonical Incest, Non-Linear Narrative, Rituals, Secret Siblings, Sex Rituals, Slow Burn, Trans Jonah Magnus, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Vaginal Sex, cosmic horror, hopefully, i'm not tagging this lonely eyes but assume it's in the background, is it father/son incest if your father is a body-snatching victorian trans man with a bear obsession, luke we can rule this galaxy as father and son, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:29:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28928814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grossferatu/pseuds/grossferatu
Summary: Martin and Jon both know their father disappeared when they were young, leaving them to be raised by a single mother and a grandmother, respectively. What they don't know is who (and what) their father eventually became.The truth comes, as it often does, at an inconvenient moment.orThe Eye runs in families. Jonah likes to keep his loved ones where he can see them, and doesn't fuck women for no reason.-Testimonials: "why did you have to make them brothers but also date? Like. Huh?"
Relationships: James Wright (The Magnus Archives)/Original Female Character(s), James Wright/Martin Blackwood's Mother, Martin Blackwood/Elias Bouchard/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	flowers in the archive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin only has one photo of his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alongside the trigger warnings in the notes, tw: for covert incest/emotional incest between martin and his mom in this chapter.
> 
> this chapter in specific has masturbation, flashbacks, worms, and fantasies of voyeurism and incest.

The folding bed was too short for him, forcing Martin Blackwood to sleep curled up, his knees pressed into his stomach. It was quiet, at least, not so old that it creaked when he moved, but still he would wait to be absolutely sure that everyone, even Jon, was gone, before he would sit himself on the edge of the bed with a box of tissues he kept under it and think. 

If caught, he would have blushed and stammered and admitted (though only to Sasha) that he was thinking about Jon, yes, a little, though mostly celebrities, older celebrities even taller than he was, the sort of masculine strangers straight women could bond with men over. If caught by Tim he wouldn't say anything, just roll over and wonder what he was doing so late. If Jon caught him--his breathing hitched as he caught himself quickening the pace of his strokes, his impossible fantasies of what Jon might do to him, of what maybe he could _do to Jon_ making him even more impossibly aroused--he would be fired, or stared at. Maybe both. He liked the second one better. He deserved the first. 

He would have been lying to Sasha. Not just because of how much he fantasized about being caught, and the consequences thereof; no, he couldn't admit to Sasha that the image that made him so hard he couldn't speak was one stolen from an unlabeled, badly creased photograph of an older man in a suit, his gaze locked on the camera, his mouth turned up in a self-satisfied smile. It was the only photograph Martin had ever seen of his own father.

There were many reasons he found Jon attractive. He was mean, in a way that was almost cute when it wasn't directed at you, and he was so focused on his work, intent at _fixing_ what he was so sure had been unintentionally broken. But--Martin forced himself to stifle a moan--it was his eyes. His eyes reminded Martin of his father's. Martin wanted nothing more than to be trapped by that gaze. He wanted Jon's eyes locked on his face as he climaxed, cataloguing every noise and expression as Martin lost all semblance of control. 

He spasmed, violently, in the little folding bed as his orgasm rocked through him, and he only just managed to the thinking necessary to use the tissue. He would, as he always did, do up his trousers and make his way to the toilet and flush the evidence of his indiscretions down the loo. He had considered bringing the photograph to this hiding place, terrified of what might happen if the worms got their mouths on it, but in the end he could not quite bring himself to open himself up to the questions it would bring. He would have to admit it was a photograph of his father, and then, perhaps, they would know. Jon would see _something_ in him, in all of his contempt, and Martin would be destroyed from the inside out, the secret at the core of him laid bare to someone with the same pale gaze.

Martin had told his mother he was gay in the hopes that it would be some separation from his father, something of his own for her to see in him, a separation from the man she loathed him for. Instead, she had curled her mouth up in disgust, and said, "another thing you got from him, I suppose."

He had stared at her, his own existence baffling him. "But--?" 

She had snorted, looking away from him. She hated looking at him, more than anything, more than even _hearing his voice_. She would not elaborate further, leaving him to wonder why a gay man would have possibly slept with his mother. How that would even work. She was unpleasant, yes, but only to him. She could be charming, if she wanted to, if it was someone worth bothering for.

He never told her that he shared her taste in men, of course, and stuck to safer topics as she gradually warmed to the realization that if Martin was gay, that meant, in her mind, that she could run her potential partners past him, demanding his opinion on how they looked. That was not, he had thought to himself, privately, how that worked, he was not the arbiter of his mother's attractions, but it meant she spoke to him, and he loved her enough that every interaction wounded and made him feel better in equal measure. At least, when they talked about her boyfriends in more detail than he ever wanted, she would look at him. 

Returning from the toilet, he curled into himself and fell fast asleep. His dreams were getting worse in the Archives, but at least he was no longer dreaming of worms. 

-

Elias had not intended to catch Martin with his trousers down, so to speak. He had been keeping an eye on his son purely to watch his development, looking for any signs of interesting nightmares or consequences of his birth. The intensity of his pleasure caught Elias off guard, peaking his curiosity as to what he could be possibly thinking about, prompting him to take a look inside. 

He was pleased to find Jon in Martin's thoughts, proof that his son had good taste. Below Jon, and more deeply associated with pleasure _and_ shame, was a face Elias hadn't seen in decades. James Wright. 

Martin did not know that name, only that this was his father, a man his mother loathed, and an object of almost violent obsession. He had yet to make the connection to the Institute, but he was terrified of someone noticing, of being _seen_. 

Martin was attractive, squarely the type of man Elias enjoyed looking at. He had been lucky with his second child, his first child a daughter he had no interest in tracking down. His mother had been attractive enough if one liked women, which Elias did not, a strange, morose woman who had taken to motherhood like a fish to bicycles, and left her son desperate for affection and alienated from the concept of his own worth. Whether the desire to have his estranged father grab him by the throat and take him from behind was due to his upbringing or a quirk of parentage, Elias didn't know, but he was sure he would have the opportunity to find out soon enough. 

The worms, alas, were taking up most of his Archivist's attention, and while the eventual scar would be useful, it meant Elias had little time to distract his son, despite his presence in the Archive. That would, he hoped, change in the near future. He would just have to wait for the right moment. 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is called "the author is intentionally trying to write the most fucked up possible JonMartin short of one of them eating and permanently killing the other." Things escalated. And then they escalated again, and now I'm seriously outlining yet another WIP. RIP. And I have a term paper to write!!


End file.
